


Paradise

by Poaxath



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad girl meets bad boy, Challenging myself to do gooder, Clubbing, Dancing, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, I'm trying new writing styles in fic, Rey's a top and bottom, Shameless excuse for the author to write smut instead of working on other projects, Smut, Something something sex happens, Unsafe Sex, don't hate me, i dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 01:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poaxath/pseuds/Poaxath
Summary: I dunno what this is, honestly. Just more drabble to help me get my brain working.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

     It's Friday night, and the club is booming. The strobe lights flash in time to the music, from indigo to fuschia, and then to yellow and white. It highlights the bodies that are jumping and grinding against one another, the smell of body odor and alcohol heavy in the air. It's nearly suffocating, the room hot and stifling.

     Rey _loves_ it.

     There's something about the lack of inhibitions in this room that's particularly freeing. One could dance to their heart's content, using moves out of the seventies and no one would bat an eye. Everyone was here to have a good time, and to perhaps find someone to take home with them, not to judge dance moves.

     That was reserved for the first Saturday in the month, with a jackpot prize of a whopping $100.

    Standing in the corner of the room, she sips at her drink, feeling the first wave of warmth flood through her as it settles in her stomach and begins to take effect.

    Why she's here, she isn't quite sure. She has friends, but they had plans and were unable to join her on her night out. She understood, in a way, based on Finn's nervousness as he'd broken the news. He and Poe thought that maybe she went out a little _too_ often, searching for something to fill the void in her life.

    Her lack of family was the constant blame, and even though the boys always reminded her that _they_ were her family, there was no avoiding the elephant in the room. Rey had pretty much taken care of herself since she was five years old. She'd bounced from one foster home to another, and as she'd entered her teenage years, she'd been somewhat of a rebel. Her first offense had been smoking at twelve, the cigarette hardly hidden in her room as her foster father had come in. The reprimanding had been harsh, for sure, but it hadn't curbed her away from the damn things. From there, it had escalated to shoplifting, graffiti, and even breaking into cars.

    Thankfully, she'd managed to get somewhat of a hold on her actions, and instead channeled that energy into doing things that weren't _quite_ so illegal.

    Like right now, how she's twenty-years old and legally not able to drink, but here she is, doing it anyway. She's sipping her martini, the liquid cool as it slides down her throat. It's just _one_ year, she tells herself. She won't be any different between this year and next year, so what harm would the alcohol do? The fake ID had been easy enough to get and no one had given it or her a second glance.

    Losing herself in the rhythm of the beat, she sways gently, bopping her head along to the pop music blaring from the speakers. She closes her eyes, losing herself a little more to the feeling of vibrations moving through her, how her body seems to come alive with the excitement in the air. People are laughing and having a good time, and Rey is—

    Well, she’s trying.

    “Looks like you’re having fun.”

    Peeking out at whoever spoke, she smiles brightly. Maybe a bit _too_ brightly, her body feeling loose and happy.

    “It’s Friday night—you’re _supposed_ to be having fun!” she calls back, turning her attention toward the deep, and not at _all_ sensual, voice.

    She freezes, looking up at the man—no, strike that—the _brick wall_ that’s standing beside her. Even in the dim lighting, she’s able to make out several things about him. The first is that he’s tall as fuck and she has to tilt her head back in order to see his face. The second is that, even with the flashing pink lights around them, he’s _insanely_ attractive. There are little dark spots that dust his face, and lips that look entirely too soft. His hair is dark and thick, hanging just above his shoulders. It’s pushed back from what she guesses is a hand constantly running through it. And those eyes—those _eyes._ They smolder in the darkness like fire, and she’s captivated.

    Finally tearing her eyes away from his face, she notices that he’s wearing only a plain white T-shirt, currently stretched taut over what has to be a very impressive chest and dark jeans that fit him like a glove. His shoulders are broad, perfectly spaced, and she has the sudden idea that he would probably look really good in a suit, and _definitely_ out of one. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol supplying that image.

    He steps closer, and with him comes the heady scent of spicy cologne and stale cigarettes.

    “You wanna dance?”

    His voice is low and deep, and it sends a flare of warmth through her. She presses her thighs together.

    “You can dance?” she teases, ignoring how breathless her own voice sounds.

    He winks—actually fucking _winks_ at her. “I can do a lot of things, sweetheart.”

    He holds out his hand out for her.

    Looking him over again, she raises an eyebrow back at him and grins. “I think you’re just the sort of man I’m looking for, then, _stud.”_

    She slips her hand into his and lets him lead her out onto the dance floor, setting her drink down on a nearby table on the way.

    His hand is large, easily engulfing her own, and it’s warm— _so_ warm. It feels like he has a fever, but he seems unbothered by it. He raises that hand to his mouth and kisses her fingers, a twinkle in his eye that’s both charming and seductive.

    As he pulls them out into the throng of bodies, he keeps his hold on her tight. He seems to know exactly where he’s leading them, as if he’s had a specific spot on the dance floor picked out and he’s just been waiting for the opportunity to go there with someone.

    She knows absolutely nothing about this attractive man; not a name or an age, an address or a phone number. She doesn’t know if he’s ever killed someone, and she doesn’t know if he’s a rapist. And as he stops and tugs her into him, she finds that she doesn’t care in this particular moment.

    Those massive hands of his find her hips, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of her waist before settling firmly and somehow not demanding. She runs her own up his chest, feeling the firm flesh beneath her fingertips as their eyes meet. She can feel it, this strange energy between them, the way they begin to move together—against one another—in a way that should only be reserved for long time lovers.

    The music pulses around them and as they dance in perfect synchrony, she can't help but to drift even closer. She turns so that her back is against him and presses herself back against the front of his jeans. Over the music, or perhaps it's actually _under_ the music, he groans low in her ear as he leans over her. He grips her hips and pulls her back against him a bit more insistently, and there's no mistaking the hardness that's pressing firmly into her ass. It's difficult to be sure, but from this angle, he feels impressive.

    She hopes she can take him home tonight.

    She _wants_ to take him home tonight.

    “Careful, sweetheart. You might not be able to handle me.”

    Looking over her shoulder, she shoots him a wicked smirk. _“You_ might not be able to handle _me,_ actually. I haven't been laid in _so_ long.”

    He raises his eyebrows but chuckles softly, lowering his head even further. His breath ghosts over her neck, hot and wet and she gasps ever so slightly. He grazes his teeth over the shell of her ear before pulling the lobe between his lips to suck and nip.

    She shivers then, a small sound escaping her as she reaches behind her to thread her fingers into that mane. It's so silky soft, and she has a brief moment to wonder if maybe he likes it pulled. It would be a damn shame not to.

    He reaches around her body, lightly placing his hand around her throat. Where it may be a warning flag to others, a sign of danger, it thrills Rey. There's a promise in the weight around her neck, one that makes her heart pound a little faster and her thong become just a bit more wet.

    “Do you wanna go somewhere, sweetheart?” He growls.

    She nods uselessly, eyes half shut as she instinctively gives herself over to him in this moment.

    Rey's a switch, someone capable of being both a dominant and a submissive in the bedroom. Right now, at this particular point in time, she's in the mood to be ordered around and possibly even manhandled a little. That could very well change in the next five minutes. It had freaked out some of her prior hookups and boyfriends, ones that got off on power and wouldn't let her take the reins. This strange person, though—well, she’ll have to explore him a bit more.

    “On one condition.” She pries his hand from her throat and turns to face him. He's looking at her hungrily, as though he can't get her undressed and devour her fast enough.

    “And that is?”

    “Give me a name.” She flutters her eyes innocently.

    “A name? For what?”

    Trailing her fingers down his chest, she leans up onto her toes to press her mouth to his ear. “For me to scream later.”

    He smirks then, a slow, knowing little thing. “Kylo, sweetheart. You can call me Kylo.”

    “Hi, Kylo. I'm Rey.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno what this is, honestly. Just more drabble to help me get my brain working.

    He's _ruined_ for all other women, and he _knows_ it.

    What's more—he's not even sure he _cares._

Rey is—Rey is pure magic.

    He’d known as soon as she’d placed her hand in his that they wouldn’t make it very far. There would be no awkward silences, no ‘getting to know you’ conversations. There had just been mumbled ‘I’m clean’s and ‘no condom’ as they’d virtually attacked each other in the front of his car.

    It was a black Jeep Wrangler with one of those soft tops to allow for a nice driving experience on a gorgeous day. One that said the owner spent a lot of time outdoors, someone that had money, but didn't flaunt it _too_ badly.

    And right now, Kylo Ren was about to make use of it.

    His seat is laid back as far as it could go, the doors gone to give some room for movement. Thankfully, they were in a quiet part of the parking lot where no eyes would see them right away should they wander too close.

    He looks up at her, so beautiful as she holds her hair over one of her shoulders as she leans across the console.

    Kylo is no stranger to blowjobs, having had many a casual hookup in his day. What he _is_ a stranger to, is the sheer fucking _gusto_ with which Rey devours his cock.

    Her lips are stretched impossibly wide around him, her pale pink lipstick a lovely sight as she takes him down. He hopes some gets left on him. Maybe a souvenir for later when he showers. A lovely reminder that this gorgeous woman had actually _agreed_ to come with him. And yet, watching her head bob up and down in the pool of streetlight a few cars over, he knows without a doubt that he wants to see her again. He hasn’t even fucked her yet and he's already hoping she’ll call him later.

     _Fuck._

    Her eyes are shining like she holds some special secret, and perhaps she does, because what she does with her fingernails—dragging them over the base of his cock—should be a damn crime.

    He groans slightly, threading thick fingers into the chestnut waves she’d abandoned.

    “Suck that cock, sweetheart. Suck it like it belongs to you,” he commanded, using his grip on her to tug her down further, silently demanding she take more of him.

    She chokes a little, but somehow manages to get it under control. And Kylo—he’s in _awe_ that she has such control. And the little smile she flashes at him before she takes him even more deeply down her throat says she _knows_ it.

    Yep, Kylo is positively _fucked._

Her throat is so soft and silky—it really should be illegal to feel this damn good.

    She hums around him, sending little vibrations up his shaft that have him groaning and tightening his fingers. “That’s it, baby. Just like that—god your mouth is so fucking good. Can’t wait to fuck your sweet little cunt, too.”

    She pops off of him for just a second—just enough to ask, “Where do you want to cum, Kylo? In my pussy? Or—” Her tongue slides out to stroke languidly up to his tip, where she flicks it at his slit. “—right here in my mouth?”

    What an intriguing question. He truthfully can’t decide, but there’s no way he’s going to let her get away without having her take every single inch of his cock. He needs it—needs to feel _her._ Needs to immerse himself into her as completely as he possibly can before she decides it’s time for her to leave.

    “Depends on how many times you want me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he rumbles, jerking her hair to force her to meet his eyes. “Because if you let me, I’ll fuck you now, and I’ll fuck you later, and maybe even after that. I’ll pound that sweet little cunt all night long, if you let me. And somewhere in there, I’ll find time to cum in your mouth, too.”

    The flare of excitement that rushes through her eyes makes his heart beat faster. Knowing that she wants this as much as she does, that feeling of being desirable—it’s almost too much.

    He pulls her from his cock, hauling her body up and over the console. Giving her very little time to adjust, he yanks her down to him with his hand on the back of her head, crushing their mouths together.

    While tempting to control her like this, he also wants to feel her in this moment. That sense of false closeness that just _touching_ a human can bring. He brings his hands up to cup her face and hold her still while he possesses her lips. It's a bruising thing, how he takes her mouth and claims it for his own, how he acts as though this is _his_ kiss, how he’s loaned it to her, and he's demanding it back.

    She gives it to him readily, moving in synchrony with him, using tongue and teeth and everything in between as she runs her hands up over his chest to tangle in his hair.

    He groans when she pulls it before he tears away to trace a path down her throat instead.

    He's kissing and licking along her pulse, hot and wet things that send goosebumps down her body and makes her grind her hips against him.

    She tastes sweet, like a hint of strawberry body wash, a slight sheen of sweat, and whatever perfume she’d spritzed on before heading out. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and now that he’s had a sample, he’s ravenous for more.

    Her eyes are half-closed in pleasure, breathy little gasps escaping her whenever he finds a particular spot.

    “So sweet—why are you so _sweet?”_ he asks, sliding his hands over her waist to settle at her thighs. He’s sliding her skirt up as much as he’s able, urging her to shift to make it a bit easier.

    “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she whispers hoarsely, one heeled foot placed on the lip of where a door would normally be.

    “I really would,” he replies, guiding her to move along his still-clothed cock. “I’d like to know what makes you so fucking _delicious_ and I’d like to see if that taste extends down to your cunt, too. And I’m going to, Rey. I’m going to bury my face between your legs soon and I want to feel you cum all over my tongue.”

    "You'll have to make me cum with your cock first, Kylo," she smirks back, running her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

    A wicked grin passes over his face, and he feels himself rise—quite literally—to the challenge. “I think I can do that.”

    What he finds underneath her skirt has him groan softly, biting his lip to feel the thin, lacy material of a thong. God, he would love to see her ass in it, but at the same time, it’s thinner than a normal one. It’s one of those nearly string things, ones that have absolutely _no_ business being on an ass like hers. He should remedy that. Yes, yes he should.

    With a loud tear, he rips it away from her, enjoying her little cry of protest perhaps more than he should.

    “Hey! Asshole! That was expensive!”

    “And now it’s mine,” he chuckles, reaching around her to hang it from the rearview mirror. In the streetlamps around them, he can just barely make out that it’s a pale blue. Very innocent, and somehow very Rey. “I’m keeping those, and if you want them back, or if you want a replacement, you’ll have to come find me for them. I don’t offer replacements on the first night.”

    Total bullshit and he knows it. It’s just a ploy to get her to talk to him again after this. She’s perfect, and so warm, and he really just wants to bury his face between her thighs to let her know just how much he’s enjoying their time together so far. Unfortunately, the damn car sort of hindered that, especially if he was going to fuck her like he wanted to.

    Leaning back against the seat, he rubs her down against him, his cock sliding against her wet cunt.

    Her hands grip at his shirt, tugging it as she shifts to try and get a better angle, no doubt attempting to get him _inside._ Inside sounds good--hell, inside sounds _fantastic,_ but first—

    “Reach up, sweetheart,” he instructs, letting go of her hips for just a brief moment to take her hands. He guides them up and over them, having her hold onto one of the roll bars overhead. “I want you to hold onto these the entire time I fuck you. If you let go, I’m going to stop. Understand?”

    Her hazel eyes are wide, shining in the gloom, and she bites her lip as she nods. Her hands tighten along the bar, stretching out her torso to hold herself up a bit more to reach.

     _Perfect,_ he thinks.

    “Good girl,” he praises, letting his hands slowly traverse their way back down her body. He pauses over her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her nipples through the shimmery material of the top she’d chosen. Her answering shudder and quiet moan has him rutting against her a bit more insistently, drenching himself in her slick. “Look at how wet you are, baby. All this for me?”

    “Shut up,” she mutters, though he can tell she doesn’t really mean it.

    He clicks his tongue at her, shaking his head as he pulls her hips closer and places the head of his cock against her tight little entrance. Slowly, he’s pressing in, and her eyes flutter slightly as he stretches her.

    “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, slowing down just slightly to allow her time to adjust. His body screams at him to just thrust in, though, to just fuck her and claim her, to lay his seed in her cunt and go. To get his and make sure she gets hers. It’s that stupid primal part of his brain, that dumb caveman instinct that’s centered solely on biology, and everything a dudebro is made of.

    Kylo is _not_ a dudebro.

    She whines, and it’s the sweetest sound. Like someone just stuffed cotton candy in his ears. “You’re so big. I love it—god, so fucking big. It burns, but it’s—ah!”

    He thrusts in the rest of the way, burying himself to the hilt, pelvis to pelvis.

    “Feel this tight little pussy?” he asks, holding her above him as he withdraws slowly. Her body _clings_ to his, protesting his departure as she intentionally clenches her walls to try and keep him inside.

    Her head drops forward between her arms to watch him, her eyes already looking just a bit more glassy as sensation begins to take over. Kylo's pretty damn sure he’s never seen a more lovely sight, and they haven’t really even gotten started yet. Her arms are trembling slightly with the effort to hold her weight, and he shakes his head. “Don’t let go.”

    “I’m not,” she whispers breathily, mouth parting as he pumps into her and begins to set a heavy rhythm, pounding in and out at a steady pace. The sounds of their bodies meeting is loud in the air, echoing around them and he knows without a doubt anyone walking by will be able to hear them easily. There’s no way in hell they wouldn’t be able to, because as he moves, she’s making little noises, and _god,_ she’s vocal.

    He _loves_ it.

    Some women are fake about the way their partner makes them feel, but for some reason, Kylo just knows Rey isn’t faking it. He can feel every minute twitch and tremor that rolls through her body, every involuntary shiver that she can’t control. Every gasp that leaves her has his name on it, over and over again. Little chants of encouragement, of wishes, of pleas, he doesn’t know for sure, but he doesn’t want her to stop.

    So he fucks her harder, faster, watching her tits bounce in her shirt, and god, he really should have taken her shirt off. He’s positive she’s not wearing a bra, but god, _why hadn’t he taken her shirt off?_ Fuck, maybe he’ll get to see those perfect tits soon. He really hopes so.

    “Tell me you’ll call me afterwards,” he growls as he pummels her poor cunt, making her take him and then take him some more, pressing deeper into her until he can’t even be sure it’s just his cock inside of her. He’s fairly sure his entire soul may be fucking her at this point, but he really, truly can’t be bothered to care. “Tell me you’ll let me do this again.”

    Her eyes open again and she shakes her head in defiance, biting her lip harder to try and keep quiet.

     _“Tell me.”_

She refuses again, and when her mouth finally opens, it’s to cry out wordlessly, her breath catching as she undulates her hips against his, riding out her orgasm as he keeps fucking her through it. With her arms barely holding her up, he slips his thumb around to her cunt and pushes, applying pressure in tight little circles that have her whimpering as she jerks against him. _“Oh god, Kylo—”_

“Cum again, Rey. Wanna feel you soaking my cock, wanna feel you drench me with it,” he commands, skin slapping hard and fast together.

    His pace is brutal, relentless, like she’s the last thing he’s ever allowed to fuck, and who knows. Maybe she is.

    If she’ll just give him a damned phone call.

    She tightens around him once more, her entire body trembling as her hands threaten to let go of the roll bar. “Kylo, I—”

    “Come!” he grits out, feeling warmth pool at the base of his spine, feeling it deep in his balls. He’s going to cum, and he’s 99% sure he’s fallen in love in the process.

    She does, gushing against his hand as she moans, a slight sheen of sweat coating her face.

    Her body is a greedy thing, taking everything he has to offer as she finally lets her arms drop and she slumps against him, her face pressed against his neck. Weakly, he wraps his arms around her, stroking his fingers up and down her back as they recollect themselves.

    Minutes in silence pass, and he thinks that maybe she feels this connection he does. That she wants to explore it more and see what it is or what it could be.

    Maybe not. Maybe he’s just basking in this post-coital afterglow and he should tell his brain to shut up before it gets him in trouble. His dick has already done that for him enough today.

    Just as he opens his mouth to speak, she’s moving—wordless as she hops off of him, his cum leaking down her thigh. He can see it glistening in the light behind her as she steps down from the Jeep, settling on shaky heels as she smooths her skirt down and attempts to somewhat resettle her hair.

    And then she turns to him, leans in, and places a soft kiss on his lips that takes him completely by surprise.

    “Rey—”

    “Thanks for a fun time, Kylo,” she breathes with a smirk as she strokes her hand over the front of his shirt again before heading lower to tuck him back into his pants with gentle fingers.

    “Hey, wait—”

    But she’s already backing up, turning around, and sauntering off in whatever direction her car was or her friends were. Wherever she’d come from.

    He frowns after her, preparing to get out and chase her down when he sees them.

    Still dangling from his rearview mirror.

    He wonders if maybe those were her parting gift, and as soon as he steps out of the Jeep, he feels it. There’s something sharp in his jeans, something digging into his skin and irritating.

    Reaching in, he pulls out a little sliver of paper. It’s folded neatly, and as he lifts it up a bit in confusion, he glances up at her retreating figure.

    She’s looking back at him as she disappears, smiling and raising her hand to her ear in the universal phone signal as she mouths the words _call me._

    Grinning, he flips open the paper to reveal a set of numbers.

    Yes, Kylo is ruined for other women, and he doesn’t even give a damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout-out to my long-time friend for the idea of using the roll bars in the Jeep!


End file.
